Water on Their Cheeks
by Meatball42
Summary: The aftermath of a death that strikes Tony much harder than those in the past. Death!fic, minor Tiva, if that's what you want to see.


**Author's Note: I was going to write something else, but I was uploading 'My Hero' by the Foo Fighters onto my iPod and this came to mind. Had to write. Became a lot sadder and a bit more Tiva-ish than I'd expected, but the ship isn't really the point. You'll know what I mean soon enough.**

[*]

"Tony…"

Shakes his head. Can't talk about this. Not now. Not mere hours after what had happened. This was nothing like Kate, this was nothing like Jenny.

Stares at the wall. The wall where he put up pictures of his team, his family. Something he'd never done before. Pictures reminded you of people; he'd never wanted reminders of his real family. Abby had come by for pizza and a movie one night as gasped in horror at the thought of him not having any pictures on the walls.

This was getting to be a ritual, and God he hated it. After Kate, after Jenny, he'd taken down the pictures of them, knowing that he wouldn't be able to look at them for a long time. He'd cried as he'd taken down Kate's pictures (not that he'd tell anyone), been mostly drunk when he'd taken down Jenny's (Ziva knew, because she'd been there, making sure he didn't pass out and hurt himself), but this was the worst, by far. His eyes and head were both clear, neither mourning option fitting with this particular situation. The only thing that was the same was that Ziva was here.

He pulled a picture off the wall. A cheap plastic frame, black, from Wal-Mart. Ducky'd taken it at a crime scene. There was something to be said for the Englishman's talent as a photographer (and Ducky had said it all when the picture came out) because it captured the precise moment where Gibbs' hand came into contact with the back of Tony's head. Tony's eyes were wide, startled, his shoulders were pulled up and the notebook he'd been brandishing about moments before as he made a reference to 'The Fugitive' was curled protectively into his chest. This was one of the first photographs Tony had put up on the wall. You could see a bit of McGee in the background stifling a laugh. It was only a month or two after the computer geek had started working on Gibbs' team permanently. Tony sighed silently, blowing the dust off it and placing it carefully in the box.

This picture had a metal frame, silver, but it had a distinct shine of both blue and yellow in the light of the one lit lamp in Tony's living room. He stared at it. Under most circumstances this photo would've caused him to break out into a grin, but not today. Tony's eyes traced his own face, laughing, then Gibbs, next to him, pulling on Ziva's hair playfully while the Mossad agent turned with a happily surprised look on her face. Lastly, McGee, standing next to Ziva. He'd just turned from putting the dirty dishes in Gibbs' sink after the team's Thanksgiving dinner, and he looked astonished at the event occurring in his boss' kitchen. Tony traced a finger down the side of the frame, not wanting to touch the picture itself.

As he looked at that photo Ziva came up behind him, one hand resting on his left shoulder as she looked at the photo over his right. "Is that the frame I got you?" She asked quietly. Tony just nodded, not wanting to break the silence that he'd kept up for several hours. Not wanted to acknowledge the tightness in his throat that wouldn't have allowed him to speak anyway.

Tony placed that picture in the box reverently. Forty minutes later had him packing away the very last photo, this one with a handmade frame of durable hickory. There was a bit of carving in the wood, but it only served to break the frame into an inner layer and an outer layer, descending in as though leading the watcher's eyes into the picture. Tony took time to admire the handiwork, the knowledge and skill that went into this frame before looking at the picture.

One of the few snapshots that managed to catch his boss smiling. Gibbs was sitting at his desk, chair back, legs comfortably stretched out. He was staring across the bullpen, and it would've been obvious from his posture the direction he was looking, even if Tony hadn't been able to remember this scene perfectly.

It was New Year's Eve, but the team had barely noticed in their rush to solve a particularly difficult case. They'd made it back to the squad room an hour or so before, and had eggnog practically poured down their throats by a way-too-excited Abby. With four minutes till the New Year, Ziva'd had her head in her arms on the top of her desk, McGee was typing on the computer with his eyes looking as though they hadn't closed in weeks and Gibbs had just finished his seventh coffee of the day and looked like he needed more. Tony had taken one look around at the team and cracked an unforgettable joke that brought them all back to life. That was when Gibbs had openly laughed and Abby had snapped this shot with the NCIS standard crime scene camera she'd pilfered from McGee.

Ziva had sat next to him at some point and she smiled at the photo. "I remember that night. It was the happiest New Year I've spent in America, although I still do not understand why Abby insisted on drinking so much eggnog."

Tony didn't crack a smile. He knew that Ziva was smart, focusing on the good times, not allowing herself to fall into the deep pit of despair that Tony was pretty sure he'd be calling home for the next few months, if not years, but right now he couldn't handle it. He couldn't look on the bright side, couldn't think of the better times, could hardly look at these pictures of the man he'd loved like a father and who was now laying in a drawer in Ducky's morgue.

He placed the photo in the box, brushing his fingers one last time over that beautiful craftsmanship, then closed the box with shaking hands before he shoved it into a corner of his living room. He'd move it to another room tomorrow, but he'd been up for the last thirty hours, the last ten of them being the worst of his life, so all he wanted now was sleep.

"Tony, you should eat something-" Ziva began gently, but he stopped her with a look. For a moment she appeared taken aback by the look in his eyes, but then she was composed again. He realized she was probably hurting as much as he was, just hiding it better, and he swallowed the pain-filled, scathing remark that was on the tip of his tongue.

"I can't, Ziva. Not now." Breaking his silent streak. His throat hurts a bit.

She looked worried for him, but resigned as well. She nodded. "I will stay here tonight," she decided, and began arranging his spare blankets over the black leather couch.

"You don't have to Ziva, I'll be fine," Tony shook his head, moving to stop her. When he took her wrist in his hand, he was surprised by how cold it was.

"I'm staying, Tony." The look in her dark eyes was both stubborn and vulnerable, and he nodded and let go.

He lay in his bed for another half hour, not moving, knowing she's doing the same fifteen feet away.

[*]

"_NCIS, freeze!"_

_Of course, the suspect doesn't. He rushes McGee, who sidesteps rather than shooting, knocking his gun into the man's head. The criminal drops to the floor, dazed, and Ziva swoops in with handcuffs around the punk's wrists before he knows what hit him._

"_What the hell was that, McGee?" Gibbs gets in the younger agent's face, speaking quietly. McGee gulps._

"_He didn't have a weapon, boss. And he's just a kid. I didn't think lethal force was necessary."_

_McGee stays tense as Gibbs stares him in the eye for several seconds. Then the gray-haired agent backs down, slowly. "Good work, Tim," he finally says, complementing the sentiment with a light tap to the back of the head. It causes McGee to flinch anyway, though a smile spread over his face as he did so._

_They've just relaxed when bright red lights start flashing around the cramped room they're in and a siren blares loudly in the background. The doors to the compartment seal closed, cutting them off from the rest of the ship, and they all look up, even the suspect._

"_What is going on, Gibbs?" Ziva asks, holding the perp's arm firmly._

_Tony grins, proud to have an answer before the boss-man. "This, Zee-va" he draws out her name because he knows it's obnoxious "is a security shutdown. Something in our sector of the ship tripped an alarm and they have to call the agent afloat, the head of security and the big guy on deck before they can shut it off." Tony leans back against a crate next to the wall, settling himself comfortably. "Get ready for a long wait. If being an agent afloat taught me anything, it's that nothing concerning the security of the ship gets done quickly."_

_McGee groans, and Tony's about to ream him when there's a flash from the pile of crates behind Gibbs. Tony struggles to stand from his half-seated position, but can only call out a warning "Boss!" before a man has quickly moved out from behind the crates, a large knife glinting in his hand._

_Gibbs caught Tony's expression and is already moving, but the thin man with long hair from behind the crates has already grabbed his shoulder, and McGee gasps when the knife is rammed into their boss' side._

_Ziva has already shoved the handcuffed perp to the floor and has her gun pointed at the new assailant's head. Tony didn't bother; he's leaped at the scumbag, taking him down hard, and gets in a few good punches to assure that he stays that way. When he's got the guy cuffed with Tony's knee digging into his spine, he looks back._

_Ziva is putting pressure on the wound in Gibbs' lower back, her face determined and in anguish at the same time. She's panting out encouragements to Gibbs, eyes never wavering from his face._

_McGee is on his cell phone, his gun out and aimed at the perp Ziva cuffed, eyes daring the young man to make a move. He's talking to the agent afloat and the tone he's using is much more forceful and cutting than his normal probie-timid voice. The criminal he's covering with his gun doesn't show any signs of movement, but is staring at the scene with panicked eyes, looking like he wants to hurl._

_Tony can't blame him._

_There's blood, surprisingly bright blood splattering the floor (for a moment Tony remembers Ziva's old joke that it would be coffee-brown; suddenly he understands why Abby slapped her). Gibbs is breathing in pain-hitched heavsand Ziva's trying to get him to breathe at a better pace. The boss' bright blue eyes are staring sightlessly at the ceiling, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. The sight of Gibbs' hands curling and shaking makes Tony grit his teeth, and he shoves his knee a bit more forcefully into the spine of the struggling dirtbag below him._

"_ETA, McGee!" Tony shouts, needing to be heard over Ziva's cries and McGee's own angry voice._

"_Three minutes," McGee answers, though he continues to yell at the phone, trying to convince the paramedics to make it there faster._

"_I'm losing him!" Ziva calls, her voice terse and clipped as it always is during an emergency. Tony's breath catches in his throat. He turns to his colleague in disbelief._

"_What are you talking about?"_

_Ziva has the boss laid out flat on the floor. Her NCIS windbreaker is curled up under the stab wound, and she's performing CPR. She looks up during compressions to pant words at him along with a tense glare. "No pulse!"_

_Tony grabs the scum who stabbed his boss by the hair and shifts so the man can see what he's done. "Look at him." Tony orders, becoming more forceful when the perp tries to move his head away. "Look at him! That man is Leroy Jethro Gibbs, one of the best men you'll ever meet, especially where you're going." Tony taunted the criminal with a vicious edge to his words, not caring that some of the man's hair was starting to come out in his hand of the whimpers that were coming up from below him._

"_He's the best," Tony whispers, his voice and strength failing. The suspect's head falls to the ground, chin hitting hard, but Tony doesn't notice as he watches his friend trying to push life back into their boss."Ziva?"_

_There are tears dripping down her face, but she's been performing CPR for over two minutes and her compressions have not lost any strength. She refuses to make eye contact with Tony, her eyes flicking to his face once, then dipping down to Gibbs' head for rescue breaths, shaking her head in denial as she beings the cycle again._

"_They're almost here." McGee says. His voice, too, has lost the rapid-fire energy that it had picked up. He watched in frozen horror, like everyone else in the room. His gun had dipped down from the first perp, but the suspect seemed a lot younger now, shock twisting his face._

_No one moves for the next minutes except for the man under Tony, who wriggles. Tony whacks him in the head hard with the butt of his gun. The man doesn't move much after that._

_An eternity later, the door next to McGee flies open and two paramedics race in, going straight to Ziva, whose arms have started shaking. They quickly take her place, continuing CPR while checking Gibbs' vitals._

_Tony is staring at his boss when Springer, the agent afloat, touches his shoulder. "I'll take him, Agent DiNozzo," says the older man in a gruff but kind voice._

_Tony blindly shifts off the perp (who may or may not have blood in his hair), sitting haphazardly on the floor. His graceless slip brought him to sit next to Ziva, who's panting, slumped over. The hair that slipped out of her ponytail hides some of her face, but Tony can see the tears that are slipping down her cheeks without anything stopping them._

"_Ziva, he could…" Tony stops, not wanting to give false hope, not wanting to jinx it, he doesn't know, except she looked up at his and her swollen, wide eyes hold more truth than he can deny. "He's gone, Tony."_

_Shakes his head. "No. Tell me the truth, Ziva." Her face is apologetic, remorseful, everything times a thousand. He stands, shakily, but he moves away from her to the paramedics. Somebody has brought in a gurney, and they're loading the boss._

_Gibbs' face is impossibly pale, except for the blood on his skin, which seems to be winking happily in the light. Tony is forced to gag at this sight, and the noise causes one of the paramedics to notice him. With a sad half-smile, the man pats Tony's arm. "We did everything we could, son, but this doesn't look good."_

"_No! You're lying!"Tony says loudly, his voice cracking. He can ignore the blood, all over the floor, he can ignore the way Gibbs' chest isn't moving, but somebody telling him that his boss isn't going to be okay is a lie, and he can't stand lies. He's an investigator, he gets the truth or somebody better tell him why not. Gibbs said that once. "No," he insists. "Tell me the truth, or else!"_

_The paramedic stood up, sighing, and helped push the gurney through the door of the room._

_McGee has been filling in the head of the boat this whole time, pointedly not looking anywhere near the middle of the room. Now he turns to Tony, squaring his shoulders. "I'll go with Gibbs, call you when something happens. You two talk to the agents who are going to come, then go back to the Navy Yard and get cleaned up." Tony just nods silently, shocked both by the situation and the fact that McGee finally appears to have grown a pair. The junior field agent nods firmly and sets his jaw before following the paramedics up toward the deck._

_Suddenly almost alone in the bloody room, Tony turns to Ziva. She's standing up and is watching him carefully. "We should go." She says emotionlessly._

"_You okay?"_

_Ziva meets his eyes with an empty look. "I will be fine. We need to go. Ducky and Abby will want to hear about this." She walks over to the door, and surprisingly there's only a slight hesitation before she takes Tony's hand in hers and leads them both toward the door._

_Tony doesn't mind. He's just glad she's leading the way, so she doesn't notice the tears that have forced their way past the years of bottling his emotions and dripped down his face._

[*]

Tony woke up with a start, water on his cheeks.

Ducky was horrified, Abby started bawling instantly. Palmer thought they were joking, for a minute. Fornell had heard, somehow, and rushed to the Navy Yard. Tony had spotted a particular shine in the tough FBI agent's eyes when he asked what happened. For once, Tony had choked up, leaving Ziva to break the news to their friends, their family. Left her to recount the scenario to Fornell, while the normally eloquent Tony threw up in the bathroom.

She had showed up a few minutes later, entering the men's room as uncaringly as always. They'd met eyes long enough to convey how deeply this had hurt them both. He'd hugged her, and she'd hugged back. There was no awkwardness, no uncomfortable moments even though the hug had lasted several minutes. They'd simply needed someone else's presence.

Then she'd driven him home, going the speed limit for once, knowing that neither of them could stand that first night alone.

He got up from his bed, opened the door to his bedroom. Walked out to the living room, where he was curled up on the sofa. Eyes open.

"Can't sleep?" He whispered.

She nodded, barely. It was enough.

He shuffled over to the couch. She sat up, and he took a seat next to her. Pulling his feet up on the couch, he pulled the blankets over himself and let her lean into him. There were a few minutes of shifting around until they were both comfortable, then they sat for a while, not willing to give in to sleep.

"The best ones always… the phrase is 'go out with a bang', yes?" Ziva's voice was tight.

Tony smiled slightly, for the first time in twelve hours and twenty nine minutes. "We sorta knew he wasn't the type to retire."

They both relaxed, slightly, and eventually they fell asleep.

[*]

**Please review, and tell me if this was a good fic. After writing sadness like that, I need the reassurance.**


End file.
